And still… the air thickened. Every breath tasted like memory. Old wounds stirred beneath words unsaid, the kind we never knew how to say out loud without cutting too deep. Leo’s mask didn’t slip, but I saw the cracks anyway—fragility hidden beneath that practiced calm, like a bluff stretched thin.
It made everything feel raw. Too raw. And no matter how many pages had turned since, this chapter still hadn’t closed.
“You can pretend all you want,” he said quietly, voice dipping into something dangerous—too steady, too sure, “but there’s still something here between us. Even after everything.”
The words landed heavy. Truth or manipulation—I couldn’t tell. Maybe both. Either way, they struck something inside me I didn’t want to feel. A flicker, bright and unwelcome.
“No, there's not,” I said. "Not after…"
My heart thudded hard against my ribs. Regret and longing were twisted vines—and for a moment, I felt the pull of all the roads we never finished walking.
But I couldn’t go back. Not when forward was finally starting to look like freedom.
I had rebuilt so much. Quietly. Carefully. I’d clawed my way out of the fog and into something that looked like clarity. And I couldn’t afford to stumble now—not for a feeling that lived in the past, dressed up in longing but still steeped in loss.
So I stayed still.
And let the silence answer for me.
Because whatever had once burned between us… was no longer mine to tend.
Chapter3
Cavil
The cold bit through my coat as I stood outsideThe Book Nook, breath fogging in the sharp air. I hadn’t been inside since it changed hands, but the bell above the door still jingled the same—bright, familiar. Almost like it remembered me.
I stepped in, envelope in hand, ready to introduce myself to the new owner. Secure the group a place to land. I figured it’d be simple. Straightforward.
It wasn’t.
The second I crossed the threshold, I stopped cold.
Callie stood behind the counter. She looked cornered—shoulders stiff, hands braced behind her, like she was anchoring herself to the wood. And Leo… Leo was too close. Arms crossed, jaw locked, the air charged.
Everything in the room pulsed with tension. Unspoken things. Unfinished things. I could feel it before a single word was said.
“Come on, Cal,” Leo muttered, voice tight. “You know I didn’t mean it. I was angry. It just happened.”
My throat clenched. I cleared it deliberately, slicing through the silence like a blade.
Leo spun toward the sound. His posture shifted instantly—arms falling to his sides, mouth twitching into something that looked like a smile but didn’t reach his eyes.
“Well, look who it is,” he said, voice forced light. Performative. I’d seen that act before—hell, I’d taught it to him.
Callie didn’t move. Barely breathed. Her gaze flicked between us, quick and restless, like she was trapped in a storm she didn’t know how to step out of.
I looked at her. Really looked. She had that sharp kind of presence—still and striking all at once. Reminded me of Scandinavian princesses from one of those old paperbacks—tough as iron, but you could tell she’d bled for it. Her eyes—blue and too honest—held something fragile wrapped in steel.
“Didn’t realize this place was open yet,” I said. My voice came out even, but there was weight behind it. I didn’t have to raise it. I never did.
“Just getting started,” she said softly. Still quiet, but this time… rooted. Like she meant it.
I didn’t look at Leo. No need. My focus stayed on Callie—the way her hands stayed tense even after she spoke. The way her jaw clenched like she was trying to swallow something too bitter to name.
“Everything all right here?” I asked, slow and direct.
She glanced at Leo, then back to me. Her shoulders eased—barely noticeable, but I caught it. Like maybe the room had stopped spinning. Like maybe she wasn’t standing alone anymore.
